Awakenings
by LaineyBev714
Summary: Laura's imminent recovery forces Luke and Tracy to examine their feelings for one another


Awakenings

900am Monday, September 18

These days, Luke and Tracy have become all about 'the touch.' Her fingers often graze along his upper arm, lingering at his elbow. His thumb usually ends up on her chin after she says something particularly endearing or incredibly stinging. Or sometimes that thumb brushes slowly across her cheek swiping at an imaginary hair, clearing her beautiful face.

Hand on head. Hand reaching for hand. Hand in lap. Head on shoulder. His hand on the small of her back, as he escorts her out the door….

A casual observer would tell you their bodies have already accepted a truth their minds aren't ready to grasp. A casual observer would say this, but not Luke or Tracy. She has been afraid to name it for fear he'll recognize it, too, and pull away. And he, well, he isn't really aware. Life is just a series of games to Luke Spencer, and this one – this game called Tracy – has simply gotten more fun.

So Lulu wasn't surprised to see them curled together on the couch when she burst into the den, swinging the heavy doors wide open. They, however, were startled and jumped ever so slightly before immediately resettling into one another as if reflex.

"Mom moved a finger!"

"A finger?" Tracy looked up to Luke then to Lulu and back to Luke again. "I don't get it."

"Laura hasn't moved anything in nearly four years," Luke said. His tone was flat and matter-of-fact. Tracy felt his body stiffen just a tad. "Movement means change," he continued as he began to shift away from her, so that she was forced to move her head from his shoulder and unlace her hand from his. "It could be something, Sweet Pea," he said as he turned to Lulu, "or it could be nothing at all. Don't get your hopes up."

"It's something, Dad." Her voice was cracking with emotion. "I was telling her about ending the pregnancy," she paused and inhaled deeply. "And she tried to reach for me, Dad. She did. It was just a finger, but it was sort of moving towards me..." She started to tear up a bit, so she trailed off.

"It could have slipped, darlin'." He said it softly and gently. "She doesn't have control of her hands…" Now it was his turn to trail off. Lulu knew the drill. He didn't need to explain this to her.

"I'm telling you, Dad – this is different! Her doctors want to do a cat scan at noon. I've already called Grandma Leslie, and she's going to meet us there."

"Us?" He looked at her blankly.

"Of course us!" Lulu stared at Luke. He had been so supportive of her the last few days, but now he seemed more interested in Tracy than anything else, and it was rattling her, making her angry. The tears quickly melted, and her voice became a bit steely, judgmental almost. "Dad, my mother - your wife –may be improving. This could mean something! What the hell is wrong with you?" She was looking back and forth between Luke and Tracy, who were now on opposite ends of the couch.

"Tracy is my wife." Again, he said this in a flat voice. Tracy couldn't tell what the hell he was thinking, although she was trying hard to figure it out.

"Yeah, right," Lulu sniffed. The growing connection between these two was driving her mad. Lulu could actually see it right now—the way their shoulders angled toward each other, as if their bodies didn't really want to be so separate. The way they took quick glances at one another. She shuddered. It was disgusting, and so inappropriate given what she was telling them.

"Look we all know this" – she motioned quickly back and forth between Luke and Tracy - "is about money and manipulation. Stop pretending it's anything else!"

"Noon, Dad! Noon," she said as she stepped closer to the beverage cart. "I want to leave by 1130." She picked up a muffin, turned abruptly and left. All the air seemed to follow her out the door.

"So," Tracy placed her feet firmly on the ground, as if she were preparing to support a body that was suddenly heavier. "Good luck today." She said it awkwardly as she rose.

He reached out to grab her hand. "It's nothing, darlin.' You have nothing to worry about. I'll spend the afternoon with Lulu and I'll be back in time for happy hour. We'll do martinis and finger sandwiches. I'll tell you about my day." He was smiling at her and she could tell he was trying hard to mask his emotions. "It's nothing," he repeated.

"And if it's something?"

"It's not."

"But it could be."

He looked at her and swallowed hard. "I don't know what to say."

"I understand," she said, and stepped closer to him to place a light kiss on his forehead. Her lips lingered longer than they should have. Then she gently pulled her hand from his and left. She didn't really understand anything at all.

1200 noon

"Luke, you look good." Leslie said it as he approached with Lulu. She had been sitting on a plastic chair in the hallway sipping cold coffee from a paper cup. She stood up and gave each of them a tight hug.

"You've been here long?" he asked. He was stiff, almost formal. Leslie rarely saw Luke these days, but this wasn't the Luke she knew.

"I came as soon as Lulu called," she said.

"And?" He was being short with her, almost impatient.

"And what?" Leslie asked him. She was getting a little annoyed. She expected Luke to be bubbly and enthusiastic. She didn't know what to make of this Luke.

"And is she any different? You see her regularly. You must know. You of all people would know."

"I think so," Leslie said nodding to herself as if she was really beginning to accept it. "There is something different on her face, as if she is a little more here than there, if you know what I mean."

"Where is she now?"

"They just took her in for the cat scan," she indicated to the room behind her. "It will tell us if there have been any changes in her brain activity, but changes don't necessarily mean she's coming back to us."

"But it makes it more likely than it was yesterday," Luke said.

"That it does."

"I hope that's true." Lulu said it softly, almost as if in prayer. She had been listening to their conversation, but had her head turned towards the door of the examining room, willing it to open, willing the doctor to come out and bring her mother back to her. She needed Laura so badly.

1230pm

"Mrs. Weber," the door had opened and Laura's chief doctor, a guy named Dr. Ralph Wayne, addressed Leslie as he stepped into the hallway.

"Call me Leslie, please," she said. "You know Lulu, Laura's daughter. And this is Laura's former husband, Luke Spencer."

"How is she, Doc?" Luke seemed anxious as he stepped forward to shake the doctor's hand.

"I can't really answer that question. Her cat scan shows some changes in brain activity. It could be something. It could mean nothing at all. What's interesting is that she does seem to be showing some voluntary movements—little twitches in her hands and feet—along the lines of what Lulu witnessed this morning."

"Then her hand didn't just slip then?" Luke wanted to know.

"Probably not. It's not unusual for a catatonic patient to begin to experience some motility after years of inactivity. It was an emotional event- a trauma- that triggered Laura's catatonia. It is entirely possible that another emotional event- Lulu's current situation- could trigger a change in Laura's brain chemistry that results in improvement. The mind is still a mystery, despite all that we know about it."

"So now what?" Luke asked.

"I am going to try a Benzodiazepine again. We'll start experimenting with Clonazepam and see if we get any results. We've tried it before, with no success, but things seem to be changing in Laura, so it's time to try again."

"I see," Luke said. "When will you know something?"

"You can't attach a timeline to this, Luke. We'll play with the meds for a few days. If we see no real changes, we'll increase the dosage. Then if there is still no improvement, we'll switch to another Benzodiazepine, and see what happens."

"This could be nothing," Dr. Wayne said. "She could go on living at this new level of catatonia for the rest of her natural life, or she could begin to improve. We'll just have to wait and see."

"If she was responding to my 'emotional event,' as you called it" – this was Lulu – "then is it possible that she would continue to respond to emotional events? I mean, should we keep talking to her, remind her who we are, and what she means to us?"

"It's not a bad idea," said the doctor.

"Thank you," Leslie said as she stepped forward to clasp the doctor's hand in both of hers.

"Yes, thanks, Doc," Luke said as he extended his hand and gave the man a powerful handshake. "Thanks a lot."

Leslie eyed Luke as he said this. "At least he's getting a little excited," she thought.

230pm

Luke had been pacing the docks for more than an hour, trying to figure out what the hell was going on in his head. He came to the waterfront jazzed by Laura's apparent improvement. The idea of being able to talk with her again, laugh with her again, made him absolutely gleeful.

But the glee was tempered by something, and he just couldn't put his finger on it. Actually, that was bullshit. He knew exactly what was going on; he was just having a really hard time explaining it to himself. "Tracy," he thought in amazement. "How exactly does Tracy fit in here?" He said it aloud as he stared off into the harbor.

"You love her, mate."

Luke jumped a little, and his head whipped around. "Robert, you startled me, you bastard."

"Don't change the subject. I believe you were contemplating your feelings for Sparky Butt."

"You've heard about this situation with Laura?"

"Lulu ran into me an hour ago. She's positively atwitter."

Luke looked at his friend, and nodded solemnly. He should feel over the moon, but instead he felt more confused and introspective than joyful. Luke didn't normally do introspective. It was a bit unsettling.

"I love Laura, Robert. I always will. She was the light of my life." He spoke softly, almost reverently.

"Yeah, but she's been essentially dead to you for years, and now you love Tracy, too. And that love is real, vibrant, alive. There's nothing dead about what's going on between you two."

Luke just stared at him.

"You love her, Luke."

"That's ridiculous."

"Shut your trap, Spencer. Don't waste your energy trying to convince me of something I'm not going to buy."

Luke just looked at him. He wasn't as much stunned as he was confused, lost, not really sure of what the heck to make of anything.

"Wait!" Robert gave his friend a good once over, from head to toe. "You don't know it! You don't know you love her." Luke's eyes were wide with surprise.

"Listen to your favorite secret agent man," Robert nudged Luke's shoulder with his own. "I study people for a living. You stand closer to her than you would to a friend or a buddy and you do it all the time, not just when you're trying to scam her or wheedle something from her. You do it all the time!" He said that last part again for effect and Luke was listening, taking it in.

"And you touch her constantly – a thumb on the cheek to brush away a stray hair, a hug hello when a hug isn't necessary, a friendly punch in the shoulder…"

"She does it, too!" Luke's voice jumped an octave. He sounded afraid, or maybe defensive.

"You bloody idiot. She's been madly in love with you for months."

"She told you this?" He was incredulous.

"She didn't have to tell me. You and I both know it's true. Think, you idiot, think—about the way her voice rises slightly when she's around you. About the pinkness in her cheeks when she talks to you. About the death rays she gives to women who might be objects of your affection. Hell, think about the amount of shit she puts up with from you. That's love, Lukey. If she didn't love you, you would have been out on your ass after the Maarkams, or even earlier. She could have long ago convinced a judge you married her for her money and kicked you out without a penny. You know it. I know it. Skye knew it. Hell, everyone in that damn house knows it Luke. Half of Port Charles is aware, and the only reason the other half isn't, is because they don't know you two!"

"Stop this malarkey. Go find her and tell her." Robert was speaking in encouraging, maybe even urgent, tones. "She deserves to know this now. If Laura wakes up, that changes everything, and you both deserve to experience what exists before it is altered forever."

Luke looked up at his friend. Maybe, just maybe, he gave a slight nod before he walked away.

330pm

"This memo is a piece of shit," Tracy said as she flung the paper across the desk at her secretary. The woman was used to Tracy's mood swings, and usually had enough armor to repel the verbal abuse, but today was different. Tracy was not just snide and snarky, she was meaner than usual, and she lacked that sense of total control. She seemed edgier, as if she could crack at any moment.

"I'm not even halfway into the second paragraph, and I've already discovered two typos. Your computer has spell check. Spell check!" She said it again slowly as if she were speaking to a moron. "An ape on acid could type an error free memo on your computer. There is no reason anyone in 2006 should have any errors in a little one-page letter!"

The secretary said nothing. She knew better than to fuel this fire. She took the paper and left.

Five minutes later, Tracy flew by her assistant's desk. "I'm on blackberry if I'm really needed," she emphasized the word 'really,' stepped into the elevator and she was gone.

She soon found herself walking through a department store. Shopping distracted her, and she desperately needed distraction. It was either clothing or cocktails, and clothing seemed like the better option right now, but maybe not for long.

She had been walking around in a cloak of dread since the minute Lulu announced Laura might come back from her catatonia. She wasn't a fool. She knew that whether Laura came out of her stupor now, or five years from now, or if she never came back at all, there was new hope for Luke. And that hope would grab hold of his heart and begin to pull him back to Laura. It was happening already.

"Damn!" She leaned up against a wall, and began to fumble for a tissue in her purse. "Damn it!" She dabbed at her eyes, and realized with horror that she was very close to a breakdown right near ladies shoes. "Not very classy, Tracy. Not very classy at all." She kept walking, but walking was difficult. She really didn't belong in such a public place right now, but going home meant the possibility of seeing Luke, and she wasn't up to that yet either. First, she needed to figure this out.

"Luke disappears all the time," she thought to herself as she suddenly became aware of an old industrial wall clock above her head. The second hand made a noticeable sound as it moved from roman numeral to roman numeral. Tick. Tick. Tick. "He's been back two weeks now. About time for him to leave again." Tick. Tick. Tick. "Hell, he's more gone than not, so why is this next departure bothering me so much?" She inhaled as the word 'bothering,' floated into her brain, then shook her head and kept walking.

Laura was his golden light. Everyone knew that. It was fact. And they were fiction. Everyone knew that, too. So why was she having trouble breathing? Why was there a hand clutching her heart causing such fierce pain? Why was she so dizzy? She should be ecstatic over Laura's possible recovery. If Laura were well, Luke would be in such a hurry to be free from their marriage, he'd gladly leave the 15-million behind. Yes, Laura was easily worth 15-million to Luke. "What am I worth to him?" The thought bubbled up from nowhere before she could squash it. It shook her to the core, and then came another one: "What is he worth to me?" Immediately she knew the answer… but she didn't want to know.

"Oh god," it was almost a soft cry.

"May I help you?" It was a sales girl at Wyndam's. And Tracy was stunned, but not surprised, when she realized she had wandered into the lingerie department. In her reverie she had been rubbing a silk negligee between her thumb and her forefinger.

"No," she said a little too forcefully. "You can't help me at all."

430pm

Luke found himself back at the psychiatric hospital. He knew when he left earlier he'd be back later in the day. The doctor had said his talking might actually be able to revive Laura, bring her back to him, and he planned to do that. He did. But first he needed to get away, and clear his head.

"Honey, I'm home," he joked softly as he entered her room and sat on her bed. "You loved that about me, darlin'. I think you called it my irreverence. You thought it was charming and incredibly sexy." He was trying to flirt, but it felt one sided and silly, so he stopped.

He was staring at her as he chatted, looking for any signs of anything – a twitch of a finger, a curl of a lip, a slight bit of recognition in her eyes. Nothing. He saw nothing but her lovely face frozen in that dead, vacant look—the same look she carried for four years. Maybe they were wrong about a change.

Or maybe they were right. He stared hard at her face. "You were always such a beauty, honey. You still are. Our daughter, Lulu, looks just like you."

"Lulu, wow." He paused. "You know about her.. er.. difficulty." He stumbled on the word. "I heard she told you." Another pause. "It was a very hard decision for her to make. Her wicked stepmother leaned on her hard to 'save' the baby." He heard himself mock the word 'save,' and then he stopped and really examined what he just said.

"Actually, that's not true. I mean, it's true Tracy leaned on Lulu to continue with the pregnancy, but that's because she fiercely believed it was the right thing to do, not because she's wicked."

"I mean she is wicked," he chuckled, "but in a lovely sort of endearing way." He was smiling to himself now, lost in his own thoughts, and he looked up at Laura, and suddenly realized this line of chatter was completely inappropriate.

"I am sorry, honey. Your movement today has scrambled my brain." He stepped forward, gave her a soft, sweet kiss on her cheek, and turned to leave.

530pm

"Happy hour, love, and I'm here just as I promised." He was pouring them martinis from a silver shaker, and smiling at Tracy as he did it, as if it were just another ordinary day. This was their ritual. It was about to be her turn to graze her fingers over his as she took her glass from him.

"How is she?" Tracy asked it softly. She was genuinely frightened of the answer, but she asked the question because she wanted to be there for him. She cared for him, and he must have had a hard day.

He stared at her for a long time and said nothing. He knew whatever he said, however he said it, would hurt her. And he didn't want to do that. She stood there patiently with a gentle look on her face, waiting for an answer. Instead she got a martini, and when she started to do what she normally did with her fingers, he caught one of hers between his own. He just squeezed it ever so slightly and held it there. It was the smallest, simplest gesture in the world, and yet it was the biggest, most life-shifting thing he could have done right then. In that gesture he said, "I'm aware of this attraction. I'm acknowledging it. Now what?"

She closed her eyes and let the moment sink into her skin. Her head tilted back slightly, and she swallowed hard as he took the glass out of her hand and began to rub her fingers, then her wrist and her arm, then her elbow. He moved slowly and each touch was like a ten-point-oh on the Richter scale, sending powerful waves of emotions right to the core of her being. He was literally rocking her world, and it was both the most thrilled and the most fearful she had ever been.

He looked into her eyes, and for the first time ever he saw her love for him, and he noticed it was laced with fear. She deserved the truth, this woman of his. She deserved everything.

"The doctors say it may have been Lulu's emotional turmoil that sparked a change in Laura's brain chemistry." He said it softly, gently, tenderly. "And they say that if we continue to talk with her about emotional events it might" – he emphasized the word might- "result in further changes. But even if that happens, they don't know if she'll come back to us." He was still rubbing Tracy's arm, making deep massaging movements with his thumb. He was trying to calm her down while letting her know how much he cared. He was also very aware of how good it felt to touch her this way. He didn't think he could ever stop.

"Talk to her?" Tracy was dumbfounded. "That's it?" She wanted so badly to stop talking, and just concentrate on the warmth he was creating. But this wasn't the time for that.

"They're also going to change her drugs, but the ones they want to try they've tried before…" He trailed off. He never believed the answer to Laura's pain would be found in a bottle. He knew it would take more than that, and he would have to be a part of it, and… "Wow."

He broke contact with Tracy, and turned away slightly. The break was painful for both of them. She felt it as a knife in the heart. To him, it was like a hard body blow.

"What is it?" Tracy asked, touching the top of his hand very lightly, eager to reestablish the connection, if only for a moment.

"I just figured out why I have been so rattled today."

She gave him a questioning look and waited. "I am going to need to be deeply involved in her recovery." He paused. "It's the only way." He said this softly, sadly. A piece of him was very happy about Laura, but right there in front of Tracy he felt leaden and full of dread, as if another piece of him were dying. And then it dawned on him-- that's exactly what was happening.

Tracey knew it, too, and she closed her eyes tight. Waves of pain and regret were flooding her body, and she was trying to control it, to keep it from him. But they were deeply plugged into one another at this point. Every thought, every nuance was ricocheting back and forth on a powerful current of energy. Neither one could hide anything from the other right now. Nothing.

"I know," he whispered in her ear. "Whatever it is you're feeling, I have been feeling my own version of it all day. I feel it right now."

She opened her eyes to look at him and saw tenderness and understanding and love.

He leaned down to kiss her on the cheek. It started as an innocent, reassuring kiss, but once his lips were on her skin, there was nothing innocent about it. He found himself dragging his lips along her cheek, then nipping at her jaw line, and her chin. Hands that were sitting softly on her shoulder a moment ago, were now running up her neck into her hair. She arched into him hard as if metal to a magnet, and their lips met in an explosion of heat and desire.

All of their fear and passion came pouring out in that kiss. His tongue pressed on her teeth, and when she granted it entry, greedily sucking and tasting, it was as if she had opened her soul to him. She felt completely overcome with feelings and emotions. Was it really possible she had never felt this way before? This sort of desire and electricity was completely uncharted territory for her. Completely. Her hands pulled his head tightly to hers. She was ravenous and demanding. She needed his tongue, she needed his touch, she needed his skin, his taste, his breath. She reached down and grazed her hand over his crotch, before breaking the kiss and whispering hotly into his ear. "I need you now more than I have ever needed anything in my god damn life." It wasn't desperate. It was proud. It was confident. It was the truest thing she had ever said.

"Can you walk?" He asked her huskily. She was leaning against him now, her knees were quite weak with lust, and in truth walking her own body up the stairs was going to be quite challenging.

"What, you're not going to carry me?" She was trying to flirt, but the moment was heavy with emotion – heat and lust and passion and sadness, yes sadness.

"Not if you want my back strong enough to fill that need of yours." She laughed at that and then returned a hand his crotch, a bit more aggressively this time. "We could do it right here on the floor." She meant it as a joke, but it didn't come out that way. Nothing was coming out light right now.

"We could, but then it would have to be a quickie and I am not going to rush this. That's a promise," he said as he stared deeply into her eyes.

She answered with another deep kiss, and then turned, never letting go of his arm. "I'll make it work," she said.

"Good girl," he answered as he smacked her ass and then let his hand linger there as he followed her out of the den.

When they hit the doorway to her room, he pressed tightly up against her back, whispering into her ear. "You need to know, before this begins" – he grabbed a bit of her neck in his mouth, just because it was so close, and he had to have it. Her heart leapt into her throat. The world stopped. "You have to know, I need you too. More than anything."

And with that, they pushed through the door and stumbled into a wall with the sort of passion and desire normally reserved for newlyweds or 25 year olds with a night of gin and tonics under their belts. "Tell me what you want," he whispered in her ear as he pulled off her jacket and began to greedily kiss that arm of hers. Then her shoulder. Then her neck. She moaned deeply, and he realized he never heard her make that sound before. The thought heightened his passion – if that was possible, he wasn't sure it was- and he placed his palm on her breast. "I want to feel that without my clothes on," she answered.

Their mouths met again hungrily and clothes started to hit the floor in earnest. First it was her tank, then it was his shirt. She wanted to take if off him slowly, button by button, but slow wasn't really called for right now. Everything was fast and hot, and she ended up damn near ripping it off his body. He freed her from her bra and they were finally pressed flesh against flesh. This was nirvana.

She couldn't breath. He couldn't stand.

They tumbled to the floor in a fit of awkwardness and heat, and he was pulling at her pants. She was pulling at his. "Oh God," it was almost a cry from Tracy who was just utterly amazed and overwhelmed at what was happening to her, "we're going to do it on the floor." His lips were on her neck, his hands were on her breasts. Then his lips were on her mouth again, and that was the end of all coherent talk, all coherent thought.

There was touching and kissing and kissing and touching, and just when she thought she couldn't stand it anymore. Just when she thought she'd have to ask for it, his lips – somehow- found her ear and he whispered, "may I?"

"Oh god.. yes."

800pm

"I don't understand, Tracy, we've been going at it for two hours. I have touched damn near every inch of you." She inhaled at the reality of it. She still couldn't believe it. "I just want to see you. A good gander. A good look-- all at once. That's all." He was working the Spencer charm.

They had finally made it up to her bed – that happened somewhere after round two – and now she was under the covers, holding the edges tightly to her chest. He was straddled on top of her, buck naked, trying to tease the blanket down.

His cell phone began to ring, and Tracy glanced at the pile that held his pants. She exhaled, relieved at the sound. "It's for you, pumpkin. You should get it," she almost sang the words at him. She was teasing, sort of, but not really.

"No way. There is nobody else I want to talk with right now. Don't even go there." He stayed seated above her, fingers curled into the top of the sheets eager to pull them down. She held firm.

"I don't understand, Tracy. Explain it to me, please."

She looked at him deeply, and it gave her some comfort, some relief, to know he didn't really understand what he was asking. If he didn't understand the question, maybe, just maybe he wouldn't understand the answer.

She exhaled again, trying to shed the fear. "I'm not young anymore, Luke. My belly is round, my breasts are saggy, the skin around my neck is sort of" – she trailed off – "unattractive."

"Sweetheart, have you looked at me?" He spread his arms wide to give her a good look at his torso – along with the rest of him- and he saw a look of lust and longing come across her face. "If you can look at me, and feel that way," he whispered as he brought his body closer to hers, "what makes you think I can't do the same?"

"Our sex," she said, "was heated and hurried because of months of flirtation and frustration." She was stumbling over the words, speaking slowly and deliberately. "If you can look at me, and my nearly 60…" She choked realizing she had just revealed another secret to him. "If you can look at my nearly 60 year old body, and still want me" - there was a cry building in her throat – "that's more than sex, Luke. It will mean something more."

Did he get it? She wasn't sure. She tried to search his eyes, but they were focused on his fingers as he began to pull down the covers. Then he was looking at her breasts, her belly, her…. "Oh god," the cry broke free from her throat, and he leaned down to hold her tightly. So tightly.

She had seen directly into his eyes. And she knew he was looking at her the way -- just moments ago -- she had looked at him. It had been a whole lot more than just sex between them. She knew it now. Did he?

1000p

His cell phone was ringing again. Her head was resting on his shoulder when she woke from post-sex grogginess. His eyes were wide open. And she realized he had heard the phone, but was refusing to answer. Refusing to move. "It's okay, " she poked him. "I know you're a real gentleman. I won't be offended if you answer your phone."

"No darlin'. No thank you. I'm fine." He drew her close, leaning his head on top of hers. And she snuggled in, wrapping both her legs around his right one, wondering as she drifted back into the haze, if she had it in her for another round. "Maybe later..."

1100pm

The cell phone woke her again. His eyes were still open, and she wondered how long it had been going off. How long he had been listening.

"Lulu?" she asked hopefully, but suddenly – all at once and out of nowhere – she knew exactly why his phone was ringing, and why he wasn't answering it.

"No. Not Lulu." He leaned to place a kiss on her forehead but she titled her face, demanding his lips meet hers, and what started as chaste became heated and frenzied. "Tracy, let me make love to you again, baby. I want to make love with you now."

She shifted on top, eager to try it this way, and as his hands began to mold her skin again, she realized he had just used the "L" word. He didn't call it sex. He called it love.

1200am

The turning point came just after midnight. A grandfather clock in some a distant hallway signaled the new day, and he quickly turned to face her, his sudden movement jostling her awake and shaking her out of a daze. They were face to face, completely naked and totally in love. So he did what any good gentleman should do after a night of mind-blowing, limb-bending sex. "I love you, Trace."

"What?"

He laughed at her reaction, though he was not surprised by it at all. "Tracy Quartermaine, you are my touchstone and my maelstrom. My strength and my weakness. You stabilize me and knock me off my feet at the very same time. It's alarming and exciting, and I am madly in love with you." He was pulling her close as he said it, as if he were tying to melt their bodies together.

"I love you, too, you know." She whispered it into his shoulder, as if she were afraid to say it too loudly, as if it would tempt the gods to change their minds. "I know."

They drifted off to sleep. Again she heard that damn cell phone, but this time as she tried to snuggle into him, he moved her gently away and rose from the bed. She watched him glance at the number, swallow hard, and shut it off. She closed her eyes tightly, trying to block it out, and she allowed him to reach for her again as he crawled back into bed.

600am

They awoke to noises in the hallway. "Don't go in there, Lulu. Don't go in." It was Dillon.

"Go away from me," she hissed back at him and then she knocked at the door.

"Dad, are you in there? Dad?"

"Yeah, gum drop, I'm here." Luke and Tracy both sat up in bed, each more awake than they'd ever been, quickly pulling the covers tightly around them.

Lulu cracked the door, but never entered. Instead she was just a faceless voice. "Dad, Grandma Leslie says she's been calling you all night."

Then she stopped speaking for a moment, interrupted by a cry she heard but couldn't see.

It was Tracy, who quickly put her hand over her mouth, trying to stifle the emotions that were suddenly pouring from her body. She began to shake, and she was trying to stop that too, but she didn't need to do it alone. Luke put his arms tightly around her, and kissed her fiercely on the head. "It's all right darlin'. It's all right. I love you, Tracy." He whispered. "It's all right."

But it would never be all right again.

"Dad?"

"Yeah, Lulu."

"She's awake. Mom's eyes are clear and focused. She's been asking for you for hours."

"We know kiddo, we know."

#END#


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